


Prologue [TO FEEL REAL]

by Tortured_Artist



Category: N/A - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tortured_Artist/pseuds/Tortured_Artist





	Prologue [TO FEEL REAL]

PROLOGUE

 

What is real?  
What is the truth and what are the lies?  
Are the mentally ill really sick, or are they the only ones who are truly sane?  
What if our dreams are the real world, and when we ‘wake up’ is when we’re dreaming.  
What if life is a lie, and nothing is real, and what if the only way to finally wake up and be real is to die? What if, like in a dream, death is the only way to wake up and truly live?  
And if so, are mental hospitals how they keep people trapped in this unreal world, to stay here forever, until they are chosen by default to die?  
Are you ever so deep in thought, so lost, that the only thing you can think is “what is this..” or “I just don’t feel real... nothing feels real...”

That’s how I felt in my first year of high school.  
Everyone I knew had told me that high school was so much better than middle school. I mean, in a way, it was. I got to escape that old, congested prison of bad memories and unbearable people, and I got a fresh start. Sort of. A lot of the people who had hurt me, the ones who hated me, and the ones who were still in the process of hurting me, became more distant and I could avoid them a lot more easily.  
But in many other ways, high school was so, so much worse. Even though the thought of going back to middle school never once crossed my mind for even a second, high school was still much worse.  
Middle school was like having a rope around my neck, slowly being tightened more and more until I couldn’t breathe, and then holding my breath for what seemed like forever... and soon enough, my vision became blurry, and my mind began to depart from my physical body, until it drove me insane, and eventually the numbness was all that was left for me to feel...  
Then eighth grade was finally over, and that was the rope loosening, and falling off. That was regaining my senses and healing my wounds. That was my fallen apart world and my shattered, exhausted heart slowly, ever so slowly, being tapped and glued back together, and finally, given a chance to heal. That summer was a deep, filling inhale, and a long sigh of relief.  
That summer was the beginning of the rest of my life.  
But I was such a fool...  
If I had only known...  
If someone, anyone had given me even the slightest warning of what was to come...  
Mabey I would have been more prepared...  
It would have given me time to build a wall around my heart to protect it from being broken again...  
Mabey I should have known...  
Mabey it should have been obvious...  
But it wasn’t...  
And I did what I always do... I got my hopes up way too high...  
Leaving my heart wide open and ripe for the taking...  
And I set myself up to be broken...  
Every damn time...  
I know you’re wondering how the ‘depressed faggot’ got be that way, so, for the sake of your entertainment, I’ll make a list of names of the people who “helped” me on my wonderful journey that got me to where I am now; which is what many people would call “time to go to the mental hospital.” Either because of my sexuality, gender identity, and/ or my almost constant negative outlook on life as a whole.  
So here it is (I’m being nice and just putting their initials, so you don’t get any ideas about tracking these people down and interrogating them and getting me involved in some privacy lawsuit or something.) :  
• N. C. S.  
• D. G.  
• J. L. J.  
• C.  
• J. P.  
• J.  
• K. R.  
• A. L.  
• G. Q. J.  
• S.  
• MYSELF


End file.
